


I get along without you very well

by sugarypiment



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Eating Disorders, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Insomnia, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-Break Up, Self-Harm, Vomiting, charlie saves the day, dennis is gone, i was born to write angst and torture fictional characters, iasip - Freeform, mac is in a Really bad phase, post s12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 18:45:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14939796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarypiment/pseuds/sugarypiment
Summary: Post season 12Dennis is gone, and Mac finally realises how bad he needs him in his life.





	I get along without you very well

**Author's Note:**

> so yea, this is my first english fanfic!  
> I was feeling really emo about MacDennis the last few days, so of course i had to write some angst about them boys  
> I also need to thanks my beta @martz for helping me with my grammar!

"You coming dude?" 

Charlie grabbed his military jacket on the bar counter, looking at Mac who was still sipping on his fourth beer of the evening. Or was it his eleventh? It didn't matter anyway.

"You can go already man. I'll meet you later at my place."

Charlie shrugged before heading to the front door. 

"As you wish. See ya later!"

Mac made a vague hand gesture to his friend before returning his gaze to his half empty bottle. Or was it half full? Whatever.  
It would still be empty in a few minutes, so it didn't make any difference .  
Mac let out an undesired but long sigh before closing his eyes. Again, that cursed headache was pervading into his mind. He brought his fingers to his temples, biting the interior of his cheeks. 

Mac didn't want to come home. 

It was cold, there. It was empty. It was dark. It wasn't home anymore.

Nobody would be there to lighten up the place. To make the sheets feel warm again. To bring some life in the goddamn place. Some useless but beautifully sounding words. Just like Mac loved them.

Mac stood up, staggering to the bar where he opted to grab another beer. He looked at the bottle for a few seconds.  
Fuck off.  
The tall man put the beer back in the fridge before grabbing an entire bottle of Jack. A few shots couldn't hurt.  
The cry of rain against the roof of the pub was the only perceivable sounds in the early evening. It was a lazy day, where some of the usual customers had shown up and then left when the night had fallen on the city.  
Dee was the first one to leave, spending her evening with Artemis in another club with some impronunciable name.  
Frank had left a few hours after her, saying he had some urgent business to deal with. Probably another stupid rendezvous with one of his sluts. Mac didn't care anyway. 

The place was quiet. Too quiet, probably, now that Charlie was also gone.  
Now that everyone was gone.  
Now that Dennis was gone.  
And the clamorous sound of his own thoughts was enough to drive the man into a bittersweet madness.  
So he took a shot of booze, shutting his eyes to make the burning feeling stronger. Deeper.  
A delicate way to feel more alive, just for a few seconds. Just for the time he poured himself a second drink.  
The golden liquor was hypnotising him, and Mac let himself drowning into it, just for a moment.  
He was cold. So cold. His hands shaking on the glass.  
Sleep had been way much harder for him for the past few weeks. You could even say it was becoming entirely inexistant in his daily routine.  
Mac didn't have the guts to admit to himself that he was scared to close his eyes. That he was terrified of the idea of sleeping. He just couldn't allow himself to do it. Just in case the familiar sound of a pair of keys would suddenly tinkle in his living room.  
Just in case the phone would start ringing for the first time in weeks. Finally answering all of his hundred calls and drunk voicemails Mac had left every single night since the first day.

No, he wasn't allowed to sleep. He had to be there. Be there if Dennis decided to come back.  
Cause Mac knew he would. Of course, he would. Like he always had before.  
And when that was going to happen, Mac would be there. Waiting on the couch. Waiting next to the phone.  
Waiting in the bar, drinking booze until the son of a bitch couldn't even be able to remember his own name.  
How pathetic.

Mac had stopped couting how many shots and beers he had drunk since the rain stopped pouring outside the pub. All he knew was that the fucking bottle of Jack was now empty. What a waste.

The quietude was whispering incomprehensible ballads to the bar, again. And it's when Mac realised the front door wouldn't open this night either that he finally decided to leave. 

He had to make up his mind. Dennis wasn't coming back. At least, not tonight. Cause he was going to come back, right? Of course he was.  
Mac felt so fucking miserable. Well, he was being miserable. Like a desperate puppy waiting for his owner to come home. Cause,what was his purpose, when his master wasn't around?  
Mac thought he was going to throw up. And it was a real success he didn't on his way to his apartment. His head was fuzzy, full of noises.  
Full of him.  
And the unusual peacefulness of the streets made him wanna scream out loud to the night. Scream his head off. Yea, a fucking puppy, crying in the light of some street lamp. 

Mac couldn't believe he made it home safe. Though it wouldn't have been such a devastation if he hadn't.  
But unfortunately, not a single car was in the streets at this hour of the night. No chance to get accidentally hit by some drunk driver.  
Once again, what a shame. 

It took Mac almost an eternity to find his keys, his hands shaking like in the wintertime.  
The door was shut. Of course it was. And Mac hated to see it shut. 

The apartment wasn't anything he could recognize nor remember anymore.  
The place was cold, like if a window had stayed open the entire day.  
The lights were tunerd off. Of course, they were. And Mac hated to see them turned off.

He didn't turned any of them on, tho. His drunk self couldn't even find the light switch on the wall.  
Miserable. 

So he just strolled like a lost soul into the dark living room, already dreaming about laying on his bed.  
There was -too many- not a single noise in the apartment. And Mac thought, for a moment, that he was able hear his own heartbeat.  
The smell floating in the place was unsustainable.  
It was his smell.  
Filling every single room of the apartement.  
His perfume, his fucking exquisite cologne. Invading the walls, the couch, the cushions, the bathroom.  
And as empty as the quiet place looked, it was, in fact, full of Dennis. He was everywhere. In every furniture, in every corner. His presence soaring around just like an old memory, taking Mac's mind as his first prey. 

Dennis. 

The man had conquered every inch of his head.  
He had brainwashed his soul with his long fingers. He had endomaged his heart with his delicate poison. He had cut through his mind with his goddamn big blue eyes. And now, he was gone. Like the fire that had burnt this place to the ground months ago. Leaving nothing but ashes and broken glasses. Broken windows.  
And a frightful bleak feeling. 

Mac felt a flash of lighting go through his head. The perfume made him too nauseous, and he fortunately made it to the bathroom before he start vomiting. 

Luckily, his head fell into the toilet right on time, and he finally let all the alcohol and the tears go back to the surface. And it hurted. It hurted so damn much. Burning his cheeks, his throat. Fulfilling his veins with deep poison.  
Fucking Dennis. 

Mac let out a loud strangled noise. He was disgusted by his own self.  
He tighned his hands on the edge of the toilet, making a few coughing before he was finally able to breath again. Sort of. His entire body shaking in violent and irregular spasms. 

It took him all the strength in the world to be able to stand up again, reeling, thinking he could fall on the bathroom floor, and nobody would even hear him. 

The reflection who was watching him in the other side of the mirror made Mac see flares.  
Who the fuck was that ?  
How many days was it since he last saw himself in a mirror ? Probably too many.  
The darkcircles under his eyes were so deep he started to wonder if they weren't black eyes after all. But he knew deep inside that they weren't. The piece of shit wasn't able to sleep, what was he even expecting. Mac scratched his unshaved beard, making a weird face.  
He couldn't stare at himself anymore. 

"You disgusting piece of shit."

Mac swore it wasn't his own voice that came out of his mouth, hurting his throat even more, and it scared the shit out of him.  
He couldn't get him out of his head.  
Dennis was everywhere. Eating each part of his body like an infinity of spiders crumbling through all of his members at once.  
Why was it so freezing in this cursed place ? Why was it so fucking noisy?

Everything went dark as soon as his knees hit the ground, his legs deciding to let him fall.  
The walls seemed to retract themself into Mac's own silhouette. The shadows crawling back on him. The spasms invading him were becoming stronger, and he thought, for a moment, that he might actually choke.  
And he finally realised that Dennis was his medicine. The soft, slowly killing medicine he was used to swallow every single day. And now, now he didn't have any pills left. And he was starving. Starving from him. Starving from his words. His disgusting, beautiful words. How would he be able to know if he was enough, now? 

"Holy shit, Mac!" 

Mac almost didn't heard Charlie's footsteps running into the apartment, falling on his knees next to his friend who was still laying in the middle of the living room. 

"You ok dude?! What happened?"

Mac blinked twice in the darkness of the living room to be able to recognize his best friend's face. Who else could it have been. 

"I got you buddy. It's ok. I got you."

Mac took a deep breath, feeling Charlie carefully carrying his shoulders into his palms. His head hurt too much. Way too much.  
Probably was it just the alcohol flowing though his blood. Or was it the lack of sleep. The lack of food. The lack of him. It didn't matter anyway. Charlie was here.  
Mac closed his eyes, gripping his friend's shirt into one of his shaky fists. 

"It's okay..." Charlie said in a broken voice. "It's okay. I'm here." 

Then everything went dark, again.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm already working on my next iasip work;a highshcool au  
> feel free to leave a review, it would really motivate me for my future projects!
> 
> thank you for reading!


End file.
